Saucy Girl
by Cookirini
Summary: A short story based on Langston Hughes's Thank You, Ma'am. Also includes the original Hughes short so that others may see the material which Saucy Girl is based on. Complete.
1. Disclaimer

**_DISCLAIMER_**

_I know I seem to have a lot of disclaimers on my stories nowadays. However, before reading these two shorts, it is important to keep this in mind._

_"Thank You Ma'am" was written by Langston Hughes. It belongs to him, and his estate, and whoever has the rights to it. It is here on FF.Net, with my short, _only_ for the purpose of readers to understand the material from which "Saucy Girl" is derived from. I am _not_ making any money for putting "Ma'am" up, nor am I making money off of Saucy Girl._

_That being said, "Saucy Girl" was written by me, as an attempt of a prequel to Hughes' original story to stay true to the personality of the heroine – to show what was behind her actions in "Thank You Ma'am". That is all, and I hope you, the reader, enjoys it._

_-Cooki_


	2. Saucy Girl: Fan Prequel

**Saucy Girl**

By Cookirini

"Hold still, hon."   
  
The young woman, her skin as white as alabaster, gave a frown as the large, rough hands of the large black hairdresser tilted her head to an upright position. Her spotless face was speckled with short, straight strings of black hair as she stared into the mirror.   
  
"I can cut your mighty pretty neck right well, hon," the hairdresser gave the woman a nod, "If you don't hold yourself still here."   
"Just hurry up." The woman didn't look at the hairdresser in the eye. "I have a function I need to be at tonight. _Why_ I decided to come here, I'll never know."   
"Um hum." A comb brushed through the white woman's hair. "Just you hold yourself still. You'll look good for your party yet."   
  
Luella Bates Washington Jones had seen this woman's type before. She wore an expensive silk dress, a pair of black high-heeled stilettos, and before Luella had her take them off, she had worn very expensive jewelry and a coat lined with the most expensive mink money could buy. Always showing off, these were the women that Luella catered to, from ten in the morning until ten in the evening, at the Plaza Hotel's exclusive hair salon.   
  
"You have a fine coat, I should say," Luella returned to cutting the woman's hair. "It look like mink to me, ain't it?"   
"How would _you_ know?"   
"Customers of all kinds, hon." Luella looked up for a moment before resuming her cut. "I get rich ones down here, see, with the poor ones."   
"Uh huh." The woman was disinterested as she examined her nails. "Do you do manicures at a decent price? I need my nails done for the function I'm going to – or do you know how?"   
"I don't do manicures. So, you have some kids, hon?" The scissors snipped across the back of the woman's hair. "I have a few of 'em at my stoop. You have some?"   
"I have no children_, thank you_." The woman seemed repulsed that Luella was talking to her. "And no, I do not plan to have children. How long do we have until you are finished?"   
"A few more snips, hon, and you'll be on your way for sure." Luella hated sassy, saucy customers such as this woman, but she kept the smile on her face. "You want to adopt then?"   
"Absolutely not. I'm no Warbucks."   
"_Shame_, though," The scissors kept snipping, "that there be children without parents on the streets of this here godly city. I see a child be taken by surprise this morning – was minding his business, and someone come accusin' him of robbery! He had nothin' –I saw him the whole morning just peddling with nothing going – and an old man dressed like a banker who weren't nowhere near him says he robs him! It's a shame, I tell you – if God intended our children to grow up urchins, then we older ones should be taking care of them when we can, hon."   
"Thank you for the patronizing, madam." The woman, by this time, had had enough. "But I haven't the time or inclination for such petty thoughts. I'm sorry I don't share your views, but can you finish this?"   
"Oh, of course, then, hon." By this time, Luella was finished, and she let the woman go. "Just preaching from the pulpit a bit, hon, I tend to do that. Of course, hon, I used to be rich myself from my second husband - I married well like you - before he squander it on gin and Florida swamp. I had purple mink and blue diamonds, sweet, and remembering what I had I know things is _so_ hard when you're a rich woman."   
"And for that, you won't get a tip." The woman immediately walked off as soon as the cloth covering her dress was off. "I did not come here for a sermon. Have a good day."   
  
Luella could not help but smirk at the woman as she left, putting her coat and jewelry on as she slammed the door. She turned to her co-workers, who were snickering along with her.   
  
"Get a look at that tender chicken, sweetheart! Guess she ain't happy." One of them was shaking her head. "What you tell her, Lue?"   
"Nothin' I don't tell other customers. She be a new socialite, it looks to me." Luella gave a nod. "Can't be much more then twenty, no more then twenty five. Has a mighty stance on them street kids, though."   
"Wasn't we all amongst 'em once! You thinkin' she'a gettin' robbed t'day, Lue?"   
"Reckon she'll be mugged sooner enough. Of course she'd be callin' the police too if it happened, that little child." At this, Luella looked up at the ceiling and raised her hands. "If I weren't where I was today, and if I hadn't been how I was before, I'd be most unhappy like her. But God knocks y'all down when you're up there, and when you finally down and out, you understand. Better to give your love and charity to the meek who can't do it on their own rather than kick 'em down; we all knows who'll be the ones left poor when the Almighty finishes his work!"


	3. Thank You, Ma'am: Hughes' Original Short

Thank You, Ma'am  
by Langston Hughes   
_(Re-Formatted for FF.Net by Cookirini)_

  
She was a large woman with a large purse that had everything in it but a hammer and nails. It had a long strap, and she carried it slung across her shoulder. I was about eleven o'clock at night, dark, and she was walking alone, when a boy ran up behind her and tried to snatch her purse. The strap broke with the sudden single tug the boy gave it from behind. But the boy's weight and the weight of the purse combined caused him to lose his balance. 

Instead of taking off full blast s he had hoped, the boy fell on his back on the sidewalk and his legs flew up. The large woman simply turned around and kicked him right square in his blue-jeaned sitter. Then she reached down, picked the boy up by his shirt front, and shook him until his teeth rattled.   
  


After that the woman said, "Pick up my pocketbook, boy, and give it here."   
She still held him tightly. But she bent down enough to permit him to stoop and pick up her purse. Then she said, "Now ain't you ashamed of yourself?"   
Firmly gripped by his shirt front, the boy said, "Yes'm."   
The woman said, "What did you want to do it for?"   
The boy said, "I didn't aim to."   
She said, "You a lie!"   
  


By that time two or three people passed, stopped, turned to look, and some stood watching.   
  


"If I turn you loose, will you run?" asked the woman.   
"Yes'm," said the boy.   
"Then I won't turn you loose," said the woman. She did not release him.   
"Lady, I'm sorry," whispered the boy.   
"Um-hum! Your face is dirty. I got a great mind to wash your face for you. Ain't you got nobody home to tell you to wash your face?"   
"No'm," said the boy.   
"Then it will get washed this evening," said the large woman, starting up the street, dragging the frightened boy behind her.   
  


He looked as if he were fourteen or fifteen, frail and willow-wild, in tennis shoes and blue-jeans.   
  


The woman said, "You ought to be my son. I would teach you right from wrong. Least I can do right now is to wash your face. Are you hungry?"   
"No'm," said the being-dragged-boy. "I just want you to turn me loose."   
"Was I bothering you when I turned the corner?" asked the woman.   
"No'm."   
"But you put yourself in contact with me," said the woman. "If you think that that contact is not going to last awhile, you got another thought coming. When I get through with you, sir, you are going to remember Mrs. Luella Bates Washington Jones.'   
  


Sweat popped out on the boy's face and he began to struggle. Mrs. Jones stopped, jerked him around in front of her, put a half nelson about his neck, and continued to drag him up the street. When she got to her door, she dragged the boy inside, down a hall. She switched on the light and left the door open. The boy could hear other roomers laughing and talking in the large house. Some of their doors were open, too, so he knew he and the woman were not alone. The woman still had him by the neck in the middle of her room.   
  


She said, "What is your name?   
"Roger," answered the boy.   
"Then, Roger, you go to that sink and wash your face," said the woman, whereupon she turned him loose--at last. Roger looked at the door--looked at the woman--looked at the door--and went to the sink.   
"Let the water run until it gets warm," she said. ""Here's a clean towel."   
"You gonna take me to jail?" asked the boy, bending over the sink.   
"Not with that face, I would not take you nowhere," said the woman. "Here I am trying to get home to cook me a bite to eat, and you snatch my pocket book! Maybe you ain't been to your supper either, late as it be. Have you?"   
"There's nobody home at my house," said the boy.   
"Then we'll eat," said the woman. "I believe you're hungry--or been hungry--to try to snatch my pocketbook!"   
"I want a pair of blue suede shoes," said the boy.   
"Well you didn't have to snatch my pocketbook to get some suede shoes," said Mrs. Luella Bates Washington Jones. "You could of asked me."   
"M'am?"   
  


The water dripping from his face, the boy looked at her. There was a long pause. A very long pause. After he had dried his face, and not knowing what else to do, dried it again, the boy turned around, wondering what next. The door was open. HE could make a dash for it down the hall. He could run, run, run, run!   
  


The woman was sitting on the daybed. After a while she said, "I were young once and I wanted things I could not get."   
  


There was another long pause. The boy's mouth opened Then he frowned, not knowing he frowned.   
  


The woman said, "Um-hum! You thought I was going to say but, didn't you? You thought I was going to say, but I didn't snatch people's pocketbooks. Well, I wasn't going to say that." Pause. Silence. "I have done things, too, which I would not tell you, soon--neither tell God, if He didn't already know. Everybody's got something in common. So you set down while I fix us something to eat. You might run that comb through your hair so you will look presentable."   
  


In another corner of the room behind a screen was a gas plate and an icebox. Mrs. Jones got up and went behind the screen. The woman did not watch the boy to see if he was going to run now, nor did she watch her purse, which she left behind her on the daybed. 

But the boy took care to sit on the far side of the room, away from the purse, where he thought she could easily see him out of the corner of her eye if she wanted to. He did not trust the woman not to trust him. And he did not want to be mistrusted now.   
  


"Do you need somebody to go to the store," asked the boy, "Maybe to get some milk or something?"   
"Don't believe I do," said the woman, "unless you just want sweet milk yourself. I was going to make cocoa out of this canned milk I got here."   
"That will be fine," said the boy.   
  


She heated some lima beans and ham she had in the icebox, made the cocoa, and set the table. The woman did not ask the boy anything about where he lived, or his folks, or anything else that would embarrass him. Instead, as they ate, she told him about here job in a hotel beauty shop that stayed open late, what the work was like, and how all kinds of women came in and out, blonds, redheads, and Spanish. Then she cut him a half of her ten-cent cake.   
  


"Eat some more, son," she said.   
  


When they were finished eating, she got up and said, "Now here, take this ten dollars and buy yourself some blue suede shoes. And next time, do not make the mistake of latching onto my pocketbook nor nobody else's--because shoes got by devilish ways will burn your feet. I got to get my rest now. But from here on in, son, I hope you will behave yourself."   
  


She led him down the hall to the front door and opened it. "Good night! Behave yourself, boy!" she said, looking out into the street as he went down the steps.   
  


The boy wanted to say something other than, "Thank you, M'am," to Mrs. Luella Bates Washington Jones, but although his lips moved, he couldn't even say that as he turned at the foot of the barren stoop and looked up at the large woman in the door. Then she shut the door.


End file.
